Jackson Lamb suspected it was very much about her.
‘Our failures get more press than our successes. You of all people should know that. The dodgy dossier? Weapons of mass destruction? Okay, that was Six, but you think anyone cares?’ Her words were coming faster now, each leaving its tobacco trace in the air between them. ‘There was a poll lately. Forty-something per cent of the public think Five had a hand in the death of David Kelly. Forty-something per cent. How do you think that makes me feel?’
Lamb said, ‘It makes you feel like doing something about it. Let me take a wild guess. You’ve set up some half-arsed scheme involving a neo-fascist group kidnapping a Muslim kid and threatening to chop his head off on YouTube. Except it’s not gunna happen because one of the group is one of your guys. So when Five step in for a last-moment rescue, you’ll have all the airplay in the world underlining what a ruthlessly efficient organization it is.’ He blew smoke. ‘Close?’
‘Half-arsed?’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake. We’ve got one dead and one in intensive care, and that’s with you trying to keep this whole thing out of the papers. And in case you hadn’t forgotten, they’re both mine. Or were.’
‘I’m sorry about Sid Baker.’
‘Great.’
‘It sounds like Moody tripped on his dick, and I’m not taking responsibility for that. But I’m sorry about Baker.’
‘I’ll have that marked on her chart. You know, the one clipped to her bed, which shows when her catheter’s changed. Jesus. Did you really think this would work?’
‘It still can.’
‘Crap. The wheels started coming off before you screwed them on. Tell me about Hobden. What makes him a danger?’
‘I don’t know for sure he is.’
‘I didn’t come here to fence. You had his files swiped and his rubbish collected. Why?’
Briefly, she touched her forehead with the palm of her hand. When she looked back at Lamb, he felt he could almost see through her skin. Veins stretched tight over gleaming bone. Tap her with a fingernail, she’d shatter. She said: ‘Do you know Dave Spencer?’
‘
‘Used to be. Got his cards. But anyway, yes. He and I, we’re friends. Does that sound odd? Me, friends with a pinko journalist?’
Nothing sounded odd to Lamb; except, perhaps, that people had friends.
‘We were in the Frontline Club the night of the Euro elections. The night the BNP won two seats, remember?’
Lamb nodded.
‘We watched the results coming in, and Dave went predictably mental. He’s a drinker. Another reason they sacked him. Anyway, he started railing on, as if it was my fault. What about your lot, he kept saying. Isn’t it time you took these pipsqueak fascists out of the game?’
‘Oh, Jesus,’ Lamb said.
‘I don’t know what I told him. Anything to get him to pipe down. But I said stuff, yes. That they were on the agenda. Something like that. Non-specific. Not for attribution.’
‘And all in Hobden’s hearing.’
‘Well, it’s not like I knew he was there! He was lurking. He was low profile.’
‘Of course he bloody was. He’s a fucking pariah.’ Lamb shook his head. ‘So you’ve got a journo with far-right sympathies on the earie for an op against the far right. Who’s already riled by having his extremist leanings exposed, and the Service had a hand in that, right? No wonder you wanted to find out how much he knew before kicking your ball into touch. What did his files show?’
‘Sod all. Pi, to about half a million places. And you thought we were paranoid.’
Lamb just thought he was careful. What Hobden had done, he’d have done too, the way a tourist carries a dummy wallet: a couple of bucks for the local hoods, with the plastic and the travellers’ cheques folded into a sock. ‘So you sent Moody to what, double check? Lift his hard drive?’ He paused a beat. ‘He was carrying a gun.’
‘For Christ’s sake, Lamb, you think I authorized that?’
‘At this point, I’m beyond surprising.’
She said, ‘He was supposed to take the laptop. He was
‘We’ll add that to Moody’s list of career successes, then.’ Without warning, he spat noisily. Then said, ‘So now Sid Baker’s on a table, having a bullet removed from her head. As for Moody, even he must have realized things were beyond screwed. So he tried to tidy up, which involved removing the bug he’d planted in my office. And trod on his dick in the dark, like you said.’
‘Was he alone at the time?’
‘We’re all alone in the end, don’t you think? Those final moments?’ Jackson Lamb flicked the dying stub of his cigarette into the dark canal. ‘Either way, it’s over. For him and for you. For this whole operation.’
‘It can still work.’
‘No it can’t. If Hobden was clueless earlier, he isn’t now. Oh, and he’s on the loose. Did I mention that? Pulling the plug is your only choice.’
‘Hobden’s a joker. The only rags that’ll print him have names like
